


in the grip of all my troubles

by MovesLikeBucky



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Autofellatio, Come Eating, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25712485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: Crowley's human corporation has always been a bit...off.  A bit too snakelike.  Too many bones?  Not enough bones?  Definitely an incorrect number of bones.  This lends him to some amazing feats of flexibility.Feats of flexibility that Aziraphale findsveryinteresting.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 228





	in the grip of all my troubles

**Author's Note:**

> _**PLEASE MIND THE TAGS Y'ALL**_  
>  This is not like... super filth but it is definitely the filthiest thing I've ever written. Not for everyone, enter at your own risk!
> 
> Big thanks to [fairybog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairybog) for the beta read! <3 This was inspired in no small way by Aiwa's art on Twitter <3
> 
> Enjoy some bendy demon!

Crowley’s spine has never been an entirely human spine. This is an important fact to note, an important fact for Crowley to remember, and an important fact that Aziraphale had kept at the back of his mind for far longer than Crowley might have initially assumed.

A drunken conversation, a stray and errant thought. Just how inhuman, exactly. Just how _snakelike_ is Crowley’s human form, really? An innocuous question, a challenge. A dare, even.

This is how Crowley finds himself here, filled in every way. His back is burning, bent over himself as it is. The rhythm Aziraphale is setting driving him insane. A slow thrust, impaling him fully each time, making him hiss. That only serves to drive him further to madness, as his own hard and leaking cock is settled in his mouth, shifting with every downward thrust of Aziraphale’s hips. 

It’s not that Crowley has never tried this before. Six thousand years on Earth can get boring on occasion. But it’s different like this, with Aziraphale’s hand in his hair, gripping just tight enough to hold in place, not tight enough to hurt. With the angel’s thrusts pushing his gag reflex nearly past it’s breaking point. With his angel’s cock filling him so deliciously and fully, hitting just the right angle with every downward thrust.

“You’re positively debauched like this, darling,” Aziraphale coos from above him and Crowley moans helplessly around his own cock, the taste of his own precome on his tongue. Azirpahale smiles down at him, indulgent and fully hedonistic as he picks up his pace. “Show me, love?”

Crowley, with great effort, lifts his hand from the bed, showing Aziraphale the bowtie still gripped there. “Wonderful, my love, thank you,” Aziraphale says like it’s any other day. They had talked about this beforehand. Without his words, Crowley is to drop the bowtie if things become too much. Aziraphale is, of course, watching closely. Aziraphale knows it still resides in Crowley’s grip; but him asking is a reminder. A reminder that Crowley is in control of what’s happening, that it stops when he wants it to.

He swallows reflexively; shivers and moans at the sensation around his own cock. He doesn’t want to stop.

Aziraphale is glistening above him, sweat gleaming in the lamplight of their bedroom, gripping the headboard like a lifeline. Crowley loves these moments; his angel on high, driving pleasure right down to the heart of him, taking his pleasure in Crowley’s body. Crowley worships at this altar, loves wholeheartedly with every spare scrap of grace in his body and in his soul. He won’t be dropping the bowtie tonight.

“Darling, I’m close,” Aziraphale says as his movements stutter. Crowley reaches out, gripping Aziraphale’s hand where it rests on his arse, urging him onward. The angel thrusts impossibly deeper, chasing his release. 

Crowley suppresses his reflex, taking himself in further, the combination of his own throat and the relentless striking of Aziraphale’s cock have had his orgasm building faster than ever.

“Let go for me, dove,” Azirpahale says above him as his back arches. He screams Crowley’s name as he spills his release into him. The feeling of it, at this angle, in this way is too much. Crowley lets go and spills down the back of his own throat, salty and slick.

Aziraphale steadies himself, knees bracketed on either side of Crowley’s contorted body, breathing heavy as sweat drips off of him onto Crowley’s face. He pulls off slowly and carefully, slow enough that Crowley’s cock starts to soften in his own mouth. There’s something dirty and raw about the feeling, something thrilling about what they’ve just done. Aziraphale clambers off of him and Crowley lets his spine roll back out; straightening his back against the bed and stretching, thoroughly fucked and sated.

Aziraphale leans over him, kissing him soundly, licking into his mouth and tasting the remnants of spend still there, still lingering. Crowley is boneless in this moment; weightless as Aziraphale kisses down his body, as he spreads Crowley’s legs again, licks into him once more. Aziraphale moans as he tastes the two of them on his tongue. Crowley keens and whines, overstimulated and satisfied as he is, but says little else as Aziraphale takes his time. As he takes care of Crowley in the way he prefers to.

It’s over soon enough, and there’s a snap of fingers. Clean cotton sheets and a soft duvet. Strong and warm arms pulling him close, holding him near. He drifts to sleep in his angel’s arms, content and blissfully happy in the afterglow.

  
  



End file.
